


Edge Rest

by photonromance



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Edgeplay, Masturbation, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28203057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/photonromance/pseuds/photonromance
Summary: Din Djarin deserves a rest. A break. A little time alone.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 65





	Edge Rest

**Author's Note:**

> Little ficlet brought over from tumblr, as I do. Our poor boy deserves orgasms, the sweet thing.
> 
> Inspired by @orientalld's art on patreon

Din sends the child with Omera, he’s spending the night with the other children in anticipation of a festival, his first sleepover. And Din hasn’t had the ship to himself in…. oh it feels like years now.

With the ship secured and his comm active and ready incase Omera comms, Din has his first night alone in a long time.

He strips and showers, a real, water shower, since they’re planet side and he can replenish the supply again before they leave. A proper hot shower. It’s pure bliss. Washing out his curls and scrubbing his skin raw, it’s better than a sonic could ever manage.

It’s during the shower that it strikes him. Running his fingers through the fine trail of hair down his belly as he scrubbed, a flicker of warmth blooming in his chest.

It really had been too long.

It wasn’t like he’d had the time, working job after terrible job, chasing after the child, running from others chasing the child.

It had been too long.

Din shut off the shower, lingering in the heat of the ‘fresher as long as he dared before toweling off and returning to his berth. Given what he knew he was about do, he couldn’t help the urge to cover himself. And what was the harm in indulging his urges right now? He slipped into a loose fitting pair of pants and lay back on the berth, one arm pillowed behind his head.

The sounds of the ship help. Humming and whiring. It feels alive around him. Comforting.

Din closes his eyes and breathes deep. His free hand traces over his throat, the barest brush of fingertips over his skin. It’s delightfully alien. Achingly intimate. Goosebumps race across his skin and a gasp escapes chapped lips.

It’s been too long.

He lingers there a while, tracing his own stubble up his jaw, letting his blunt nails scratch over his neck. When the sensation starts to equalize, the pure frision becoming a simmering heat, he moves on. Gently, he presses his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, letting himself imagine, for just a moment.

He sighs, lips parting to accept the intrusion. It only needs a moment, but he lingers. This is about taking his time. When his digit is wet, Din moves on.

He gasps when he brushes his wetted thumb over one pebbled nipple. The saliva begins cooling immediately and it only intensifies the sensation. Stars, he’s so primed for it. There’s no more waiting.

Shifting to bring both hands into play, Din pinches his nipple gently, tweaking it just to savor the shock of pain. At the same time, he strokes down his belly with an open palm.

Taking himself in hand is delicious. There’s no resisting the first stoke, long and slow. The rolling pump of his hips makes his back arch and he mewls with the pleasure of it, so long neglected.

But it’s too dry too quickly. Reaching down beside he berth, he rumages for a moment, returning triumphant with a crumpled tube. Its generic, water based lubricant, but it’s body safe and good enough for now.

Crushing out a dollop of lubricant, Din strokes it over himself cold, huffing and groaning at the sharp sensation. He strokes himself through it, whimpering as it warms and the feeling goes from shocking to pleasurable. He slows, tweaking his nipple again, just to make himself gasp.

Din drags it out as long as he can. Alternating between slow strokes and a rough, punishing pace, Din pushes his heels into the berth, tossing his curls against his pillow as he edges himself to the cusp of his patience.

Stroking down his legnth, Din’s toes curl into the berth, hips stuttering up into his hand as he comes so close-

He isn’t sure how long he lingers there, flush with heat and pleasure, dragging himself back from the precipice every time he gets too close. His shower goes to waste, sweat beading his temples, leaving his lips and tongue salty with his pleasure.

When he’s ready, when the heat becomes opressive and the ache for release in his belly becomes more pain than pleasure, Din lets himself fall.

He comes back to himself to come cooling on his belly. Aftershocks still rocking his body, Din reaches for a cloth, wiping tenderly over his stomach and then cleaning the lube from his skin. When he’s finished, he tucks himself away and throws the rag toward the laundry he’s put off until tomorrow.

He’s exausted now, but pleasantly, a wrung out satisfaction settling in his limbs.

Din checks his comm one last time before he sleeps. Nothing new from Omera. They’re all surely asleep. He should be too. Stretching out, Din groans as his back pops in protest.

It had been far too long.


End file.
